


your halo around your throat

by justasadsong (deathlys)



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, Supernatural
Genre: Fallen Angels, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-01
Updated: 2013-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-16 19:48:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/865929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathlys/pseuds/justasadsong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Who are you?”</p><p>“Patrick,” he replied, adjusting his hat. “I’m here to watch over you.”</p><p>Pete didn’t really think Patrick looked like the serial killer type, so he let the mildly creepy comment slide. “Alright.” He shrugged. “Where are you from?”</p><p>Patrick gave him a funny look. “Heaven,” he said. “Of course. Where else?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	your halo around your throat

**Author's Note:**

> petition for Patrick Stump to guest star on Supernatural, and for him to be the only angel on the show who acts like a stereotypical angel.
> 
> then the Supernatural finale happened.
> 
> anyway, I wrote this and wanted to continue but never did, and then the video for Alone Together happened. so i'm hoping there will be a sequel in the works

There is a beautiful fucking meteor shower one night. Pete is driving back to his apartment when he sees it. They are so bright, and so many, and he smiles at the sky through his windshield.

 

Pete’s first thought is that he wants to show Patrick. However, when he gets back to his home and sets his keys down on the kitchen counter, he finds the dark blond angel curled on the floor by the couch, sobbing recklessly. His glasses are lying beside him and his shirt collar is wet with tears, and Pete doesn’t know what to do.

 

“Patrick?” he asks, loud enough to be heard over his crying. “What happened? Are you alright?”

 

“Pete!” Patrick grabs Pete by the arms. “I—I don’t know what happened, it must be awful—but I’ve lost it. My grace is gone.” He swallows. “It’s gone and all the angels have fallen from Heaven, and it hurts so much—“

 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Because it’s not possible, is it? “How can that happen?”

 

“It hurts,” whimpers Patrick, and Pete cradles him. He’s so small.

 

“That was what the meteors were, then? Angels?” Pete swallows hard.

 

“Yes, my friends. My friends and my brothers and my sisters.” When Patrick squeezes his eyes shut, more tears leak out of the corners, and it makes Pete’s heart ache more than anything else he’s ever felt.

 

They hear the doorknob turning, and it’s the only warning before two sets of footsteps enter Pete’s apartment. Joe and Andy appear with worried looks on their faces.

 

“Something bad happened in Heaven,” Andy announces, and his voice is horribly grim. “It looks beyond fixing.”

 

No shit, Pete wants to say. He kind of has an injured angel-human shuddering in his palms, though. “What are we supposed to do about it?”

 

“Wait for news?” Joe suggests. His young face looks tired.

 

“Is there anyone you can ask?”

 

“Not anyone hat close to the angels,” Andy answers. “I mean, the closest we have is,” he gestures, “Patrick, but that’s kind of a dead end right now.”

 

“Don’t call him that.”

 

Joe is watching as Pete continues to stroke the hair around Patrick’s face. The angel has gone quiet, but he still looks as if he’s in pain. “Maybe we should ask you, then.”

 

Pete is quiet. “That’s not how it works.”

 

Andy sighs. “We’ll call some other hunters, okay? See if they can guess what’s wrong, or if they know someone who knows.” He slaps Joe on the shoulder and says, “Come on.”

 

+++

 

Pete met Patrick several years ago while he was writing in a small café. He’d been nearly broke, and the only thing he ever did was write words for all the bands he hung out with. Most of them he kept for himself.

 

The sky was darkening and it looked like it was about to rain, so Pete got up and slid past the small line to start walking home before he could get drenched. On the way out, he dropped his notebook and a boy that couldn’t be older than nineteen picked it up and handed it over.

 

“Hi,” he said. “Your writing is really nice.”

 

“Uh. Thanks. Who are you?”

 

“Patrick,” he replied, adjusting his hat. “I’m here to watch over you.”

 

Pete didn’t really think Patrick looked like the serial killer type, so he let the mildly creepy comment slide. “Alright.” He shrugged. “Where are you from?”

 

Patrick gave him a funny look. “Heaven,” he said. “Of course. Where else?”

“Heaven,” Pete repeated, beginning to walk away. Patrick followed. “That’s cool. I mean, I have to go home now, the weather looks . . .  I mean. It was nice meeting you, Patrick.”

 

“I’ll go with you,” said Patrick. “I’m required to watch over you. Heaven’s orders. I can’t disobey.” Pete’s blank look made him let out an exasperated sigh. “Peter Wentz. You’re a prophet. Or you’re going to be one. It’s my job to keep you safe.”

 

“Like a guardian angel? You’re really a fucking angel?”

 

“That’s exactly what I am.” Patrick frowned at him and followed Pete until they reached the next street corner. “Would you like to see my wings?”  
  
Pete couldn’t answer, though, because despite the clouds, it was still bright enough outside for Patrick to angle himself _just right_ so that the shadow of his wings appeared on the building next to him. Pete tried to catch his breath and failed.

  
“Uh,” he said. “Oh my fucking god.”

 

Patrick frowned at his use of the word god, but kept following Pete anyway. “It’s my duty, Peter,” he insisted. “You’re a prophet. I’m not allowed to let any harm come to you.”  
  
Pete scratched his head. It didn’t look like the angel was going to leave anytime soon, and he didn’t know what would happen if he made him. “Okay,” he said slowly. “We can go to my apartment and you can wait there while I call someone and figure out what the fuck is going on.”

 

Patrick nodded. “That sounds acceptable.”

 

And that’s how Pete discovered that his new best friends, Andy and Joe, were hunters. 


End file.
